Dangerous Encounters
by Mirandoo
Summary: After Voldemort fell and his father was imprisoned, Draco Malfoy felt as though he had changed as a person. Yet everyone else in the Wizarding world seemed to have remained the same. Then he met a Muggle girl who could change everything, arousing suspicion and disapproval at every turn.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One:**

For a number of years Draco had questioned the motives of his parents. During his childhood he had always stood firmly behind the idea that everything they did, everything that they believed in, was for him. Perhaps you might describe this as childish arrogance, but to Draco himself this was the working method of the Malfoy Family. As a young boy he had always been given the best of everything in life, when he wanted something, it would be brought to him, without a moment of hesitation, and as a result he had been convinced that his parents, and his grandparents, could do no wrong.

However in recent months he had begun to think, _what if their way isn't the only way_? Though he could barely even think these thoughts for fear of punishment, the ideas still came to him, what if Mudbloods weren't a scar on the face of Wizarding greatness? What if Slytherin was not the _only true_ house of Hogwarts? What if his parents did not always know the answer?

His ideas had truly come to the forefront of his mind some months ago, when on a cold morning in early spring; three young people had been brought before him. Three young people that he knew, three young people that until now he had detested. Yet when he looked at their faces, the determination in their eyes, and then back to those full of coldness and hatred of his mother, his father and his aunt, he could not help but be repulsed by himself and everything he had stood for until this point. Most of the world believed him to be a murderer, to be as cold and cruel as his _Master_ and his disciples, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to leave them all behind forever.

After the fall of Voldemort, his parents had been tried, and his mother acquitted. His father, however, was given several years in Azkaban as punishment for his on going loyalty to the Dark Lord, as well as the murder of many innocent victims. Draco himself felt his mother should have been given the same fate, but he knew that sometimes a mother's love could protect people in a way that no one can be sure of. It just happened that in this case it was her love of herself that was the utmost protection.

Draco was sitting in the Drawing Room of the Malfoy's town house, which lay in the small city of Bath, in the West Country, not far from Malfoy Manor. He and his mother had taken refuge here just after Christmas, when the Ministry had seized their main home for investigation. The house, built in Georgian times, was small but beautifully built, though it lacked some of the grandeur which the Manor possessed. There was a fire roaring in front of him, and the curtains were drawn so as to block out all natural light from the room.

"It's not good to sit around in the dark all day, Mother," Draco spoke coldly for the first time that day, "You were spared Azkaban, I would enjoy the daylight all I could if I were you."

"I cannot enjoy my time while your father rots in that place," Narcissa spat back at her son, "I should be kept as much in prison as he did. He has done as little wrong as I have."

"Which is why you should consider yourself lucky not to be with the dementors like Father," Draco replied.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

"I mean," Draco started cautiously, "that both you and Father should be held responsible for your actions which could be seen in the eyes of many as deplorable."

Narcissa sat silently for a moment, her heavy eyes, which were lined with dark black circles of exhaustion, staring wilding into the ice blue ones of her son, "You foul, insolent little boy!" she hissed violently, "Your father and I believed in a greater world for us all! A world where we would rise-"

"Please spare me your speech, Mother," Draco said to her in a drawling voice, "I've heard it too many times before. I'm going out."

He got up and stormed towards the fireplace, and took a handful of Floo powder. Before he stepped into the fire, however, something in his mind switched on. He shoved his hand, palm still filled with the powder, into the pocket of his trousers and walked to the front door. He opened it, stepped out onto the street and then slammed it angrily behind him, causing the curtained windows of the house to shake. He set off at a brisk pace, with no destination in mind other than _away_.

"Can I help you?" a voice startled Draco and he looked up to see a pair of deep brown eyes staring back at him. It was a girl, he presumed a Muggle girl by her dress and lack of repulsion upon seeing him. He realised that he must have walked for much further than he had originally thought, as he was sitting on a bench on the other side of Bath.

"No, fine thank you," he said coldly, looking away from the girl, who had the sort of eyes which begged honesty from a person.

"You're not looking like a person who's fine to me," she said in a slight West Country accent, "You've been staring at the ground for a good ten minutes. I was watching you from over there." She pointed at the lawn of a nearby girl's school.

Draco really looked at her now, and saw that she was wearing a suit of dark forest green, which perfectly complimented her milky white skin and dark hair. She had a small number of freckles on her cheeks, and a warm and inviting smile which went well with her kind, yet fiery, eyes. He had never seen a Muggle who repulsed him so little.

"Got into a bit of an argument," he found himself saying in an unusually understated manner, looking at her face, unable to break eye contact, "With my mother actually."

"We've all been there," the girl laughed, "I fought with mine every day of the year while she was around."

"Where is she now?" Draco asked, instantly realising that this was perhaps an intrusive question.

The girl smiled sadly at him, "She died just over a year ago in that freak hurricane up on the hills, you remember it?"

Draco certainly remembered it. Though what he remembered was not a hurricane, but a large giant which had a lot to do with the Dark Lord. A wave of guilt passed over him. This was why his parents deserved to be punished, because innocent people like the mother of this very pretty girl had been harmed because of their actions. He suddenly hated the Wizarding world and everything that it stood for. He suddenly wanted to change everything that he had ever done in his life, purely on the off chance that the girl's mother could have been saved.

"Yeah, I remember it," was all he could say, "I'm so sorry to hear that."

"Wow, you sound like you really mean that, random stranger," she laughed a little, "Did you lose someone recently?"

"One of my best friends died in a fire last year," Draco said, this was the first time he had mentioned the death of Crabbe to anyone other that his mother, and yet he found it remarkably easy, "I was there, but there was nothing I could do to stop it."

He had thought about Crabbe a lot since that night, but rarely had the thoughts been good ones. His total internal repulsion with himself and everything he had stood for had made it so difficult to mourn the loss of a person who he deemed to be so similar. Goyle had been locked up for covert Death Eater activities he had been involved in that even Draco had no knowledge of. The sense of betrayal he felt was conflicting, as although now he was grateful for not having been included, when he first discovered what his best friend had been doing, his initial thought was jealousy.

"Survivors Guilt is always the worst," the girl said, breaking Draco from his internal monologue of self-pity, "That's why I've decided to always make the most out of every day."

"Try telling that to my mother," Draco laughed a little, "She keeps herself locked up inside all day, that's why we fight really."

"Well if I were you I would be fighting with her too," the girl replied, they were quiet for a minute, before she said jovially, "So, I can't call you _random stranger_ forever, do you have a name, mysterious blonde boy?"

"Draco," he replied, instantly worrying that the Muggle might think his name a little odd.

She didn't bat an eyelid, but instead said, "Nice to meet you Draco."

"Do I not get to know your name?"

"Ah, well," she made a falsely nervous noise, "I only really give that out on special occasions."

"Is this occasion not special enough for you?"

"Not yet it isn't," the girl giggled, "I like you Draco. You seem honest and kind."

These were not words that had ever before been used to describe Draco Malfoy. He had been called cruel, selfish, manipulative, vile, evil, but never kind. Pansy Parkinson had once told him he was delightful, but he assumed that was just because she had fancied him since they were about twelve, but this girl didn't seem to be doing this because she had a crush on Draco, she was actually just trying to be nice.

"Well I like you too, Cordelia," Draco grinned at her, as her mouth dropped.

"How did you-?"

"It's written on the front of your notebook," he pointed to the pile of books in her hand, where the name Cordelia Acheson was written in block capitals.

Cordelia looked disapprovingly at Draco, before standing up and saying quickly, "Well I should be going back to school. I've got Maths starting in five minutes."

"I never had much of a head for Arithmancy myself," Draco said, kicking himself mentally for saying _Arithmancy_ rather than the acceptable _Maths _that she had used.

"You're a strange young man Draco," Cordelia grinned, "Can I get your phone number? Maybe you can continue to be strange some other time?"

"What's a-?" Draco began, suddenly remember the Muggle idea of a telephone before saying, "I don't have one, sorry. Maybe I'll just see you around?"

"Maybe?" Cordelia looked at him sadly, "I don't do uncertainty Draco."

"Definitely."

"Much better," she replied, smiling as she walked back through her school gates, her silky brown her bouncing as she did so. Draco had never believed he could have been so entranced by a Muggle.

* * *

**Hello everyone! I hope you have enjoy the first instalment of my new story. I've never written any stories from the POV of a character I disliked before, so this could be interesting! Please REVIEW and tell me what you think!**

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Some weeks had passed since Draco's chance meeting with the Muggle girl, and the cold frost of Winter was beginning to melt fully into Spring. He had often wandered past the Girl's School on the other side of Bath in the hope of running into Cordelia again, but with no luck. In fact, for an entire week his timing had been so wrong that he had not seen a single schoolgirl. He enjoyed laughing a little at the absurdity of the younger girls pleated kilts and crisp white shirts tied with green velvet ribbon. He thought that Cordelia, as an older pupil, was lucky to have the advantage of wearing a suit over the ugly skirts warn by the little ones.

He had, of course, not mentioned Cordelia to anyone, especially not his mother. He could only imagine the reaction she might have had to his attraction to a Muggle, no matter how pretty she was. He had a small shred of hope that perhaps with time Narcissa would become less prejudiced, though with every passing day his hope became dimmer and dimmer as she fell further and further into the darkness of the town house. It had been so long since the heavy tapestry curtains had been drawn that dust was gathering on the windowpanes.

It was a Wednesday afternoon in March when Draco finally caught a glimpse of Cordelia again. He saw her making her way up one of the steep hills that was so common in the city, her canvas rucksack on her back and her shiny hair bouncing as always. The street was empty but for the two of them, but sounds of girls shrieking gleefully could be heard from the nearby school playground. He ran a little to catch up with her, his hand kept carefully in his pocket to ensure that his wand didn't slip out and give anything away.

"Cordelia!" He called after her, when he realised that she was walking at a much faster pace than he could catch up with. She turned around suddenly, a rosy colour brightening her cheeks.

"Draco!" she smiled warmly back at him, "I was wondering when I would be seeing you again."

"I was going to ask you the same question," said Draco, "I've walked by a few times looking out for you, but you mustn't have been here."

"More than a few by my count, blondie," she laughed happily, "I've seen you almost every day waiting on that bench."

"How?" Draco replied, confused. The absurd idea suddenly occurred to him that she might be a Witch with an invisibility cloak. Perhaps she was from the Ministry, sent to spy on him? Maybe she was a test, a cruel trick played by his mother to test his family loyalty.

"I take French in that classroom up there!" she pointed to a large window at the top of the dull red-brick building which housed her school, "You don't half know how to draw attention to yourself!"

"What's that supposed to mean!?" Draco responded incredulously.

"Your shocking white hair and general black attire isn't exactly subtle, is it?" Cordelia pointed to his clothes, he had to admit that although he was wearing clothing acceptable in the Muggle world, black jeans with a black jumper and a black wool overcoat, he was not exactly blending in, "But I suppose that's how all you boarding school types dress is it?"

"Boarding school types?" Draco asked, curious as to how she knew he had gone to a boarding school, the idea that she was a Ministry Witch flashed into his mind once more.

"Well, yes, you know, polished voice, good posture, well groomed," she eyed him up and down in a manner that made him extremely uncomfortable, "Not to mention the fact that I have never seen you around here before."

"Touché," Draco smiled, desperate to change the subject away from schooling, "Can I carry you bag for you? Where are you going?"

"Chivalrous too," Cordelia raised an eye-brow, "Definitely public school! I'm just walking to my car," she pointed to a rust-red car which looked as though he might be about to fall apart. She handed her bag to him nonetheless, and he carried it up the hill to her car, which looked no better close up.

"Why aren't you still in school?" Draco checked his watch, to see that the clock had just struck three.

"I'm 'off-games'," Cordelia grinned broadly at him, "It was hockey this afternoon so I've feigned illness so that I can go home early."

Draco had no idea what hockey was, but assumed that it must be some kind of sport. The idea of skiving sport was so absurd to him as a Quidditch lover that he almost questioned his interest in the Muggle, but she smiled at him and he was instantly intrigued once more.

"Oh right. Have you a lot of Homework to do?"

"Not much. My subjects are mostly coursework so I've finished a lot of my work for the year."

Cordelia had now begun to speak a language which Draco did not understand in the slightest, but just laughed a little. The two of them were just standing beside her car, both drivers side and passenger door open.

"Why are you not at school might be a more pertinent question," Cordelia asked him with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

Draco stuttered for a moment, he wasn't entirely sure what his state of education was at the moment, "I, er, dropped out at the end of my sixth year," he said awkwardly, "School didn't quite fit in with what was going on at the time."

"A public school drop-out! Interesting, I bet Eton was not impressed," she laughed a hearty laugh which sounded far to big to have emerged from such a small creature, "I'm joking, I know you weren't at Eton, and who cares about dropping out? I would have done had my dad given me the choice."

"Are you free to get a drink with me?" Draco blurted out suddenly, seeing Cordelia's face widen as he did so.

"Maybe not a drink," she replied in a blunt manner, "But you're welcome to come back to mine for a cup of tea if you'd like? It's not far from here."

Draco felt unable to refuse her invitation for tea, and so gladly got into her car. He had never been in a car before, so it was a new experience for him. His initial reaction was to feel physically repulsed by its general state of disrepair, but he was so keen to please Cordelia that he kept his mouth firmly shut for much of the journey to her house, only responding with the appropriate laugh or smile when she spoke. The left the city, but Draco could only tell by the general colour outside the car windows, as for the entire journey his eyes were fixed firmly on the cars interior to reduce the sense of fear that he felt from travelling in this tin can of doom.

"Here we are," Cordelia said as the pulled to a stop outside a small cottage in a country village. Draco didn't recognise it himself, as despite having lived in the area for a long time, he had rarely explored the Muggle villages.

Cordelia's village was small and picturesque, with a pub on one side of the square, and a church on the other. In the centre of the square was a statue of two people, which Draco could see only from behind, but he assumed that they were notable Muggle villagers as he had seen in a number of towns around the country.

"What's that?" he pointed to the statue of the people.

"Just a war memorial," Cordelia gave him a quizzical sideways glance, "Strange boy," she muttered under her breath.

They made their way down her garden path which was bordered by low box hedges and led to a heavy wooden door, which looked out of place on such a tiny cottage. She opened the door to reveal a charming, cosy interior. The floors were of dark wood, and covered with red Persian rugs which had become slightly tattered at the edges. In the hallway was a large Grandfather clock which was chiming out of tune, and an end table with a vase of flowers and several photos, including one of a very beautiful woman, who Draco assumed to be Cordelia's mother.

"She was very beautiful," Draco said to Cordelia, picking up the photo frame. He looked incredibly out of place in the hallway, as his pale skin and long thin frame looked as though it had been stretched, and his head was close to touching the ceiling.

"Thanks," Cordelia replied quietly, taking the photo from him and replacing it on the table, leading him through to the kitchen, which was as low ceilinged as the rest of the house, but had open windows which looked out over her garden and the church yard beyond.

"Sit down and I'll put the kettle on," Cordelia said to Draco, showing him to one of her wooden kitchen chairs which surrounded a heavy farmhouse table. He imagined that this might be the sort of place that the Weasleys would inhabit, but was suddenly much less disgusted by it upon encountering it for himself. Though he had loved the lavishness of Malfoy Manner, he was enjoyed the homely feeling of the Acheson family's cottage.

"I've suddenly had a thought, Draco," said Cordelia as she poured a strong cup of tea into a mug and handed it to him, "I spent the whole way home rambling on about myself, but I've realised I know almost nothing about you! What's your last name? Do you have any siblings? What do your parents do?"

Draco was reluctant to give away too much personal information, but he felt that his last name and a few other details couldn't do too much harm, "Malfoy," he said, "That's my last name. No brothers or sisters. My parents never really worked."

"Ah," Cordelia shot him a knowing glance, "The Malfoy family, from old money. Parents married late in life and gave birth to the prodigal son?"

"Something like that," Draco said, taking a sip of tea to avoid saying much more, "And what about you?" he asked, "You told me all about school but nothing about family."

"Well, it's changed a bit, since, you know…" Cordelia trailed off a little before drinking some tea to regain her voice, "Dads a builder, of sorts, I mean he manages sites and runs a firm and things. Then I've got a little brother, Finn, he's just turned twelve, but he doesn't live at home anymore because he goes away to school, like you did."

"Where does he go?" Draco asked, pretending to sound as though he knew what he was talking about.

"Blackfriar's," Cordelia replied, "It's in Norfolk, though why Dad chose it I have no idea. Apparently he was put down at birthday but its all-boys so I couldn't go. That's why I ended up at the High School- you know I think I'm telling you far too much about myself. I need to keep _some _of the mystery alive, something you seem to have a gift for."

She eyed him curiously, placing her mug down on the counter, "I've finished my tea, how about a walk?"

Draco finished his mug in one gulp, instantly regretting it as the hot liquid burned his throat. He looked out of the window and saw the surrounding countryside was thick with wet mud from the recent rain. Eying his newly polished black leather loafers, Draco excused himself to the bathroom and pulled out his wand.

"_Impervius!_" he muttered under his breath so as to create a nice, waterproof layer around his shoes. Emerging from the bathroom he grinned at the Muggle girl, "Shall we go then?"

Cordelia opened her back door, which led into the garden, at the bottom of which was a small gate which led into the church yard. There was a wooden dog house beside the gate; Draco wondered where the dog itself was. The two of them wandered between the graves in the church yard, Draco occasionally spotting the names of Wizarding families and wondering if it was the same as those that he had known. Occasionally his hand would brush against Cordelia's, almost holding it, and then move away so that she could not feel his clammy palms.

They reached the front of the pretty church, which had large stained glass windows. From this angle, they could still see the war memorial of the square, though in the dusk that was settling in Draco could still not fully make out the figures of the couple. He and Cordelia continued to chatter about abstract concepts, Draco often leading the topic away whenever it approached anything too close to what might reveal his total lack of knowledge of the Muggle world.

"Of course Baba uses to bring us cakes on Sundays," Cordelia was saying, Draco had paid little attention to the strain of conversation, they had emerged into the main square, where there were a few people lingering, "But she passed away last year in the strangest way just after – Potter!"

Draco's attention was suddenly grabbed as she exclaimed the name so loudly. His hand dived into his pocket on instinct. He hadn't seen Harry Potter since last May, since the downfall of Voldemort and the Great Harry Potter's rise to even greater fame. Anger boiled under his skin, which he tried not to let flood to his face. Across the square, a young, black-haired man turned his head towards them, but just as he did so, Draco was knocked off his feet.

"What the bloody hell is going on here!?" he shouted angrily, looking around to see that he had in fact been knocked over by a large, brown, shaggy dog which was now licking his face. The black-haired man bore no facial resemblance to Harry Potter and continued to walk in the opposite direction.

"Draco, this is my dog, Potter," Cordelia smiled at him, "He must have got out somehow! You naughty boy!" She rubbed the dog's head and he barked proudly.

"I found him on the other side of Baba's house," a new voice spoke from behind Draco's head as he stood up and dusted himself off, immensely grateful for his impervius charm. He turned to see a tall, brown-haired boy of around their age who had a broad grin and a lightly stubbled beard. He was wearing a large green waxed jacket and willies which were covered in thick brown mud.

"Thanks James," Cordelia smiled, as James put a hand around her waist, "Draco, this is my boyfriend, James."

"Nice to meet you," Draco mumbled, his entire body filled with more emotions than he had ever experienced in his life. Anger, confusion, excitement and deeper than them all, jealousy, swelled up inside him as he watched James hug Cordelia, "I really should get going. My mother is expecting me."

"Best run home to Mummy then," James joked with Draco, who simpered at him.

"See you around, Cordelia," Draco said, taking off in the other direction from her house. As he walked away he could hear muffled insults coming from the brutish mouth of James. His head was pounding, his back hurt from his fall and his sweaty hand was still clamped tightly in his hand as he disapparated back to his house in Bath with a large 'pop'.

* * *

In a small house on the other side of the country, a young man walked through the front door to a room of eager eyes. He removed his coat and sat down in a comfy armchair beside his best friend.

"News on the house?" Ron asked Harry.

"It's looking better, certainly," Harry Potter replied, "But that wasn't the most interesting thing I saw in Godric's Hollow."

"Not another giant snake?" Ron joked, "Ow! Okay, sorry Hermione," he said, rubbing his thigh where his girlfriend had just punched him hard.

"No, much weirder," said Harry, "I think I saw Draco Malfoy with a Muggle girl."

"No?" Ginny gasped, "Are you sure it was him?"

"Well it was either him, or we've got a problem with Polyjuice," Harry responded, "I reckon we should check it out."

* * *

**I hope you have enjoyed the second chapter of this story! Sorry that this one is a little longer than the last, but I just really wanted to capture all of these moments! Please review!**

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Draco had decided not to let the fact that Cordelia had a boyfriend bother him. After all, he had no intention of pursuing any form of relationship with her other than friendship. Cordelia was a _Muggle_ for heavens sake; he could never come home to his mother with a Muggle girl, no matter how pretty she might be. Yet he still could not help but dedicate hours of thought to her smile, to her laugh and to her ideas, or to the idea of her.

"Master Malfoy," a squeaky voice came from behind his bedroom door, and it creaked open with the sound of softly padding feet. A tiny House-Elf walked into the darkness of Draco's room, squinting its huge eyes to adjust to the lack of light, "You is becoming much like your mother, sir. Much like Mrs. Malfoy indeed. Orlie is worried sir, yes she is."

"Well Master Malfoy doesn't care how worried Orlie might be," Draco replied coldly looking at her small figure in the half-light, before getting up from his large four poster bed to open the heavy curtains and reveal the true squalor of his bedroom.

"Orlie cannot clean your room, sir, if you is always in it," the little elf said in a very proper manner, "Orlie wishes that you would go out for one of your walks so that she can cleans."

Draco himself had not approved of his mother's hiring of a new House-Elf, given the reforms of Elfish welfare that were coming into place. He had insisted that if they were to employ her she would be a Free Elf, though if any other Wizards were to ask she was magically bound to the family. It was shameful to have a Free Elf in your family, though Draco could not stand the idea of slavery after having felt himself bound by duty to his own family. He had therefore tried as much as he could to treat Orlie with as much fairness as he could, though in the last week he had hardly left his bedroom and was treating her with more and more contempt.

"Have you brought my post, Orlie?" Draco snapped at her. She nodded and dropped two letters onto a footstool. One of them was very large and official looking, "That will be all. I'll come for supper at half past seven."

"Very good, sir," Orlie squeaked as she shuffled from the room, muttering audibly about the mess of her master's room.

Draco wondered to himself what Cordelia would say if she were to see Orlie, or his treatment of her. He felt suddenly ashamed of himself for being so foul recently and vowed to make it up to the Elf by washing her bobble hats, which were hidden from view when guests were over. Though not a single guest had visited in over a month. Cordelia would probably call Draco and his entire family disgusting and foul and never speak to any of them again, though after his abrupt exit from their last meeting he doubted she would anyway.

He picked up the two letters which had been delivered to the house that morning, one of which was a reminder that he had to pay for his subscription to the _Daily Prophet_. He looked at the stack of papers which was building up in the corner of the large red bedroom, he rarely read anything but the headline nowadays. There was something so dull to him about news headlines in peace times. The most interesting thing he had read was a story of Hogwarts' temporary relocation while the castle was repaired. On the top of the pile was a headline _Minister Considers Revising Werewolf Laws_. Draco could not think of a more bland way to describe such an interesting topic.

The second letter was rather more interesting than the first. It was large and rectangular, with a large stamp on the back reading _BY ORDER OF THE MINISTER FOR MAGIC_. Draco opened the letter agitatedly. Could he be being called in for further questioning about the Death Eaters? Had the Ministry repealed their ruling of his innocence? He began to read quickly:

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_We have received intelligence form an anonymous source that you may have been in breach of Wizarding Law at around half past five last Wednesday afternoon. According to Section 37 of the International Confederation of Warlock's Statute of Secrecy you a required to attend a meeting at the Ministry at 9 am tomorrow morning. _

_Please be aware that this is not an official trial or hearing, and thus your ability to use a wand in the meantime will not be compromised._

_We look forward to your attendance,_

_Sincerely,_

_Penelope Dankworth_

Draco scanned the letter again for a clue as to why on earth he was being called for questioning at the Ministry. Last Wednesday afternoon he had been with Cordelia. He had barely even touched his wand the entire time, and certainly not in from of any Muggles. It also seemed impossible to him that any Wizard could have seen him in that small Muggle village where Cordelia lived. Unless he was being followed by someone in an invisibility cloak? He gave himself an internal slap about the face. It was entirely paranoid and ludicrous to assume that he was being followed, that sort of talk belonged downstairs with his mad mother.

He spent much of the rest of the day cleaning his room and pondering the letter, as well as Cordelia. He threw out most of the old _Prophets_ from his room, but kept a few to reline his owl's cage, which sat empty on top of his chest of drawers. His owl Themis had not been home in some days, though it didn't bother Draco as he was unlikely to receive much personal post anyway. Even Pansy Parkinson, who had been so eager to be close to Draco for so many years, had not tried to contact him since last summer. He had had sporadic communication from Blaise Zabini, and had even been to visit him before Christmas to play Quidditch, though he found Blaise to be tiresome and rather to _traditional_ in his views.

Many of his Slytherin friends had laughed at Draco the last time they had seen him. He had expected many of them to be sobered from their experiences after the downfall of Voldemort, and yet they considered him a fool for regretting his actions and his change of character.

When he finally surfaced for supper, his mother was already sitting at one end of the long wooden dining table, with another place set at the opposite end. The curtains were drawn, as always, though the dusky light shone a crack of gold onto the polished table.

"You had a letter from the Ministry," Narcissa said coldly as Draco took his seat for supper.

"You read my post?" Draco replied in a curt voice, bored by his mother's leading questions.

"I did not open the letter, no," she spoke in a lofty tone, "I merely sorted it from my own. What matter did it concern?"

"A matter that does not concern you, Mother. Now if you'll excuse me I think I shall eat in my bedroom tonight," Draco's heart was pounding as he spoke. He picked his plate from the table and stormed from the room. The fear that his mother might discover his meetings with Cordelia scared him so much that even being in the same room as he made him extremely anxious. She had, at a time, been an extremely accomplished Legilimens, though he felt that in her current hazed state she might not be able to gain enough clarity from his thoughts.

* * *

The next morning he woke before the sun was light, and dressed in his best robes, cut from a midnight blue wool with the faintest pin-stripe. He wore them with his black dress shoes and combed his white hair so that it stuck down on one side. As a child his hair had been scruffy and stuck up all over the place, but had been straight and limp since his father charmed it at age seven. In the half-light of the morning, he was the spitting image of his father in his youth, and Draco resented this due to his new-found hatred of his father. He attempted to make his hair slightly messier so as to disassociate himself from a man he, and the Ministry, so despised.

He left the house at a quarter past eight, to ensure that he had time to walk to a suitable location before he could apparate to London. His mother had disallowed disapparition in the house, and the last time he had disobeyed this he had come home to a bed full of large, wet, slugs. He could not help himself wandering towards Cordelia's school as headed to the edge of the town. He knew it was a little too early for her to be in, but he couldn't help but feel drawn towards it.

Draco walked a little way beyond the girl's school before finding a suitable alleyway, ducking into it and disapparating with a small pop. Just as the scene before him dissolved into blackness and a squeezing sensation, he thought felt a pair of eyes fall upon him.

He arrived on the cold pavement of a deserted London backstreet a few minutes from the Ministry's telephone box with which he had become so acquainted during his parents' respective trials. He walked around the corner and without arousing too much attention from the passing commuters, dialled 62442, and held his breath as the magical contraption transported him to the main atrium of the Ministry.

The room had changed a lot since Draco had visited with his Father as a free man. The foul statue declaring Magic Is Might had been torn down, replaced with one of Merlin, a tall, unnamed Witch with flowing hair, both with raised wands, and a wolf howling at the sky. It was an odd combination, but Draco supposed that it was supposed to symbolise the free magical world. He could feel many eyes upon him as he walked across the gargantuan room, looks of hatred and disapproval which so often met him when he showed his face in public. In the eyes of many he was as culpable as his father, and thus should have been punished in the same manner. Sometimes Draco agreed with them, and perhaps the Ministry did now too.

He made his way to the front desk, "Draco Malfoy," he spoke his name so quietly that only the Witch sitting behind the desk could hear him, "I'm hear for a meeting in accordance with-"

"I know why you're 'ere, Mr. Malfoy," the Witch spoke with a thick cockney accent, "Take a seat over there an' someone'll come and get'cha in a minute."

Draco sat awkwardly in one of the chairs to the right of the desk, and watched as the Ministry wizards poured from the fireplaces into the great lifts which took them to their places of work. Hundreds of people passed by him, including many faces he recognised from school, before anyone came to collect him.

"Mr. Malfoy?" a voice came from behind him, "If you'd like to follow me."

Draco stood up and followed the small wizard into one of the lifts. The two of them travelled together down into the depths of the court-rooms, where official trials were held. Since Draco had been assured that this was _not_ an official trial, he was taken to a small side room, labelled _Archimedes_ _Potts_. Draco presumed that this was the name of the Wizard who would be conducting his questioning.

He knocked on the door, which opened soundlessly to reveal a tall, angry looking wizard sitting behind a desk in a large leather chair.

"Take a seat quickly, Mr. Malfoy, I'm a busy man, I haven't got all day," he barked, and Draco obliged, "I assume you know why you're here?"

"I- er, I actually have no idea," Draco replied in as eloquent a manner as he could manage under the extreme stress of the situation.

"Don't lie, Malfoy, all three of us know why you're here," a second voice spoke from behind Draco's head. He spun around to see a tall man with messy black hair and glasses standing behind the door to the office.

"Potter!" Draco spat his name out, "What in the name of Merlin are you doing here?"

"That's enough asking who's here and for what exact reason," Potts grumbled, "Both you _boys_ need to sit down so that we can conduct this interview as quickly as possible."

Draco and Harry sat awkwardly beside each other, both feeling much more like schoolboys than they had in some years, both with legs slightly too long to be tucked under the wrong side of a desk.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy," Potts sneered in a superior manner, "You're here because of suspicion that has been aroused as a result of your activities on Wednesday of last week. Mr. Potter is here because he raised this to the attention of the Ministry-"

"Potter have you been _following_ me?" Draco exclaimed, eyeing Potter with utmost contempt, "Hasn't the golden child fallen from grace? Taking to stalking-"

"Stalking!" Potter laughed, "If anything, you were following me. Draco I saw you in Godric's Hollow with a Muggle girl-"

"I've never even been to Godric's Hollow!" Draco shouted, trying to calm his temper but failing miserably.

"It seems that you boys have come to a standstill in your negotiations," Potts smirked, "Perhaps you should let a professional take over? Mr. Malfoy," he repeated, "Potter here says that he saw you with a brown haired Muggle girl in the village of Godric's Hollow last Wednesday afternoon. His attention was raised after the girl shouted his name."

Suddenly realisation dawned on Draco. The black-haired man he had seen with Cordelia _had _been Potter, and her village's name was Godric's Hollow. He had heard of the village before, as many wizards had lived there over the centuries, including, he knew, the Potters.

"She, er, wasn't shouting his name," Draco said awkwardly, choosing that lying was not the best policy in this situation, "She was calling her dog, Potter."

"Ah! So that was you I saw?" Potter grinned strangely at Draco, "That Muggle you were with was pretty Malfoy, I hope you're not planning to brutally murder her."

"Potter-" Potts attempted to stop him but was interrupted by Draco.

"I would _never_ do that to Cordelia," he said sincerely, embarrassed of his sudden public explosion of emotion.

"So this Muggle girl is your girlfriend, Mr. Malfoy?" Potts laughed, "Well Potter thank you so much for wasting Ministry time with pointless investigations-"

"She's definitely not his girlfriend, Potts," said Potter, "She had some other man with her when I saw her last week. Unlucky Malfoy, I wouldn't have put the two of you together anyway."

"Shut up, Potter," Draco snarled, "Cordelia is a friend of mine. Now if you'll excuse me I have a lot of things to do today."

He got up abruptly and made for the door, "I presume that I am free to go, since this is not an _official_ investigation."

Potts opened his arms casually, "Be my guest. Potter, better follow him out. Make sure he doesn't kill any Muggles on his way to the door. Oh, and tell Davis in the Auror Department that I know about the Flobberworm Mucus… he'll know what I mean."

Draco opened the door, and in an extreme wave of kindness held it open so that Potter could follow him out.

"Why did you report me to the fucking Ministry, Potter?" he shouted, his voice echoing around the tiled walls

"Why were you hanging around with a Muggle, Malfoy?" Potter retorted, squaring up to Malfoy. His face was hard and fierce.

"You answer me first."

"I was just doing my job," Potter said calmly, his face relaxing slightly, "I am an _intern_ in the Auror department. I was in Godric's Hollow for – er- personal reasons and I happened to see you. Now you."

"I met her near my house in Bath," Draco explained, trying to match Potter's level of nonchalant calm, "She was understanding and didn't judge me. You know as well as anyone what it's like to be a social outcast Potter."

"You're an outcast for all the right reasons, Malfoy."

"In your eyes, maybe. However in the eyes of the Ministry I am a free man," Draco said coolly, "And so I'd best be off."

"Enjoy your miserable life, Malfoy," Potter shouted as Draco walked towards the lifts, "Tell your mother to open the curtains sometime!"

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**I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and that some things will be cleared up from the last one... Please review!**

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